Dean's eyes lit up when Sam mentioned the possibility of a supernatural creature killing people in New Orleans. Not the murders, but the situation.

"So, get this. There've been three separate instances where someone at a play party was killed shortly afterward. But not just killed. In each case, their pituitary gland was missing."

"Wait. Go back." Dean rolled his hands over each other. "Play party?" He cocked his head.

"It's this group in the Garden District. They put on invitation-only events. Wine and cheese and…doing things to each other. You know." Sam shrugged. "A play party."

"Let me see if I get this straight." Dean rubbed his palms down his thighs. "A little Gouda, some Petite Syrah and then the pants come off? With everyone watching?"

Sam nodded. "Pretty much."

"Full-on sex."

"Oh yeah."

"Het sex mostly?" Dean's eyes were wide.

A flicker of insecurity moved across Sam's face. "Het, gay, whatever. All combinations, all kinks. Fully negotiated in advance."

Dean bit his lower lip. "Now that's the kind of undercover work I can get behind." He smacked Sam's shoulder. "Might as well head out now. We can make Louisiana by nightfall if we push it."

Sam packed up his duffel quietly, and headed out with Dean. He couldn't help but notice Dean was half-hard as he drove, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "You're really looking forward to this one, huh."

"You know me, Sam. I like to watch."

"Yeah, right, Chauncey." Sam turned his head and stared out the window. The muscles in his jaw twitched.

Dean pursed his lips. "I'm not a heathen, Sam. I do know a few things."

Sam's expression lightened, but soon the worry lines crept back in. Dean could have eased Sam's jealousy completely right there, but he had good reasons not to. A little jealousy brought out a side of Sam he loved. Needed. Still, he couldn't let him suffer too much. "You know you're the only girl I need, Sam."

Sam made a sound of disgust. "Dude. I'm 6'4". I've got like 40 pounds on you."

"And you're still my girl. Because I'm so much of a man." Dean smirked, and pressed his boot down against the accelerator, enjoying the rumble of the engine through the seats.

"You're the one who sticks your ass in the air and squeals like a girl when I fuck you."

Dean smacked Sam's shoulder. "First off, I've never squealed like a girl in my life. Second, real men take it up the ass. And you know that." Dean pointed his finger at Sam.

Sam took a deep breath and nodded, reluctantly admitting Dean was right.

"You've been to college, Sam. Shame on you. Liking a nice hard dick up your ass has nothing to do with gender roles."

Sam held up both hands, gesturing that Dean had won the point.

"Just means that you like getting fucked." Dean licked his lower lip. "The way that cock just slides in and opens you up, fills you up so good…"

"Trying to tell me something?" A pink flush suffused Sam's cheeks.

"Yeah, trying to tell you you're getting fucked in the ass tonight, sweetheart."

"But you—"

"I need to show my girl how bad I want her."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Could you stop?"

Dean laughed. "Fine. I need to fuck the bitch face off my boyfriend."

Sam slumped against the seat back. "Fine."

"My soulmate."

"Please."

"My lovah."

"Gah. Stop!"

The radio station began to crackle as they passed out of range, and Dean changed the channel, finding another classic rock station.

"Ha!" Dean threw his head back with a laugh of triumph. "You want to get married. You are a big girl."

Sam blinked rapidly, trying to mask the expression of hurt that flashed over his face. His brows furrowed, anger supplanting all else, and the sound that rumbled out of Sam's throat could only be described as a growl.

Sam was sullen all the way through his chicken Caesar salad and iced tea at lunch, sullen at the rest stop, and even sullen when Dean bought him sour gummy bears at the gas station mini-mart.

When they checked into the motel in Metairie, he was still sullen. Dean realized he might have teased Sam a little too hard when Sam immediately went to the small table and flipped open his laptop, studiously ignoring Dean.

Dean peeked into the bathroom. "That's definitely a one-person shower. You wanna take the first one?"

Sam kept staring at the computer. "I'm good. You go first."

"Sam?"

Sam looked at Dean over the top of the screen. "Look, I'm messaging someone in the play party group, and I'm about to get us invited, if you'd just frickin' leave me alone for half a second." He frowned, irritation clear as day on his face. Irritation and something deeper.

Dean took a quick shower, making sure to leave enough hot water for Sam. "Left you some dry towels."

"Huh." Sam couldn't resist a sound of disbelief. Dean liked thick towels, like they had at the bunker, and he'd always used more than his fair share of the thin motel towels. "Wait. Towels?"

"Yes, Sam, as in two. I know you want to wash your hair, so I left you two."

Sam's mouth hardened.

"What?" Dean protested.

Sam gave a little snort.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I know what you were going to say."

"Really." Dean challenged him.

"'You want to wash your hair because you're a big damn girl.' Right?" Sam stood up and snapped the laptop closed. "Let me remind you, Dean. I'm a guy. Ok?" A red stain flushed his cheeks. "A dude." He dropped the flannel on the floor and pulled his t-shirt over his head. "With muscles."

Dean stared at Sam's strong, well-defined muscles, the tight lines of his abdomen.

Sam undid his belt with a clank and stripped off his pants and boxers. His heavy cock, soft but still impressive, settled between his thighs. "And a dick." He took hold of his cock and balls and hefted them in his hands, but not in a seductive manner. Sam was angry. Very, very angry. "Even if I put on women's underwear sometimes because it gets you off like a shot, I'm a fucking guy. Even if I like my hair long. I'm a fucking guy." He extended his hands out. "Ok? This is what you get. If that's what you actually want." Dean recoiled at the snap of bitterness in Sam's voice. "But if you want a girl so fucking much…" He bit back on his words, careful of what he was going to say next.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam held out his palm, shutting him down, and stalked into the bathroom.

Dean knew better than to push it. He let Sam take a nice long shower, and he went to the diner across the street and came back with burgers—turkey burger and sweet potato fries for Sam, double bacon Swiss cheeseburger with caramelized onions for him, and regular fries. And onion rings.

When he came back, Sam was in his most comfortable sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair mostly blow-dried but still damp at the edges, perched on the bed with the laptop. "I got us an invite." His voice was calm, controlled, and clearly signaled he was not in the mood to talk about it.

"I got us food." Dean held up the bag of food and the six-pack of beer. "And beer. Good stuff, too."

"Boont Amber. What, is this a peace offering?"

Dean smiled. "Truce?"

Sam sighed heavily, not meeting Dean's gaze

"Sammy." Dean rattled the paper bag. "Turkey burger."

Sam's expression softened at that. And a genuine smile creased his face when Dean pulled out the paper boat-tray heaped with sweet potato fries and held it out to Sam. "They've got chipotle on them." He raised his eyebrows, nodding his head.

Sam chuckled, and shut the laptop. "Do you even know what chipotle is?"

"I know you like it." Dean put on a pouty face.

They dug in. Dean inhaled a third of his burger and most of a beer before either of them said a word. The first one to talk was Dean. "Smoked jalapeno."

Sam laughed out loud, head falling back. "You do know."

Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief at the sound of Sam laughing. They ate slowly. Dean didn't say anything, just cleared the debris of their meal and brushed his teeth, then crawled into bed and waited for Sam to join him.

Dean clicked the remote to turn on the TV. "You pick." He handed the remote to Sam and turned off the light.

"I know what you're trying to do." Sam shot Dean a look.

"Then shut up and let me do it."

Sam sighed, and flipped through the channels. He didn't linger on the John Wayne movie, but stopped on a rerun of M*A*S*H*.

After half an episode, he let Dean pull him close.

"Don't want a damn girl, Sam."

Sam swallowed hard.

"Don't want you to be a girl, either."

"You're not hoping I get whammied by some witch and turned into some kind of…girl Sam?"

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head no.

"You wouldn't like that." Sam waited. "Really."

"No, actually."

Sam's eyebrows went up. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

Dean lifted up Sam's shirt, and slipped his hand beneath it, pressing it flat over Sam's belly. "I like that you're a guy."

Sam breathed out.

Dean just kept his hand on Sam's stomach, warm and comforting. "I just want you. Ok? Just you. 'S all I need."

Sam smiled at Dean, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He didn't squirm under Dean's touch, indicating he wanted sex. Still, he let Dean hold him, and before long, his eyelids grew heavy.

"Hey. You get some sleep." Dean smoothed the hair back from Sam's brow.

"You don't mind?"

"No." Dean placed a soft kiss on Sam's mouth, sleepy-soft and loose. "It's fine." Dean let Sam fall asleep. He stared at the far wall, not focusing on Hawkeye and BJ in the operating room, lost in thought.

The next day, they went shopping for clothes to wear to the play party. Dean argued for black leather pants. Sam argued against them. Ultimately, they decided on nice black jeans and long-sleeve shirts that weren't too dressy or too casual. Sam's was white, because Dean loved Sam in white shirts. Sam picked out a dark purple one for Dean.

On their way out to the party, Dean fidgeted with his collar.

"You look nice." Sam reassured him.

When they walked into the house, their eyes widened. It was not at all what they expected. It looked just like a normal party in an affluent neighborhood, with attractive people milling about with glasses of wine and little plates of cheese and crackers. The only indication of the true nature of the party was a large basket in the entry way with a sign saying, "No photos or video allowed. Please leave your phones here."

The host greeted them. "You must be Glenn and Don." Her eyes lit up at the sight of Sam. "You're prettier than your picture."

Dean was at Sam's side instantly, slipping his hand around his waist. "Yes, he is."

She blinked, absorbing the message Dean was clearly sending. "Please. Come in. Have some wine. Make yourself comfortable."

All eyes were upon Sam and Dean as they entered the living room. More than one person had a hopeful look in their eyes. Dean stuck to Sam like glue, smiling at everyone warmly, but making it clear with little touches and glances that Sam was his and his alone.

Sam warmed under the signs of affection. They drank two large glasses of the best wine either of them had ever had, and consumed a light meal's worth of expensive cheese, all while scoping out the crowd for signs of supernatural bad intentions.

Before too long, the wine got to Dean, and he had to excuse himself to use the bathroom. When he came back, a well-built blond man was chatting up Sam. Dean drew near just in time to see him laugh at Sam's joke, and put his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Dean's hand clamped down on his wrist hard and took his hand away. "No."

"I was just—"

Dean released his hand and shook his head. "No."

"He was just—"

Dean stepped between them and brought his mouth down on Sam's. He kissed him slow at first, teasing his mouth open, then brought his hand up, cradling Sam's head, and kissed him more deeply. "Mine," he announced to anyone within earshot, then wrapped his fingers in Sam's hair and gently tightened his grasp, pulled his head back and kissed him again, tightened his fingers a bit more, pulling on Sam's hair, until Sam moaned into his mouth.

The host moved up next to them. "We're going to move into the other rooms now." She surveyed the two of them. "I know you said you only planned to be spectators the first time, but…" She paused. "I do hope you feel comfortable enough to change your minds."

Sam and Dean followed everyone upstairs and watched people filter into different rooms. The host explained they could go into any room with a Welcome sign hung on the wall next to the door. Rooms with signs saying Private were reserved for people personally invited to come in.

They went into a bedroom in which a man was on his knees before a woman wearing a strap-on. Dean pursed his lips. "Interesting," he whispered.

They moved down the hall and went into a room where a man in black leather pants was tying up a young woman in an elaborate rope harness. Dean felt Sam's eyes on him, watching his face as he watched the pair. "Not really my thing. Wanna move on?" he said quietly.

They went into another room where a shirtless man with huge muscles and a broad chest thick with curly hair was sitting on the end of a four-poster bed, spanking a smooth young man spread out on his lap.

Sam made a little sound low in his throat. Dean's mouth twitched. "Well, alright then." They moved closer.

The young man opened his eyes, looked around, and locked eyes with Dean. The older man's hand came down hard, driving a cry out of him. He squirmed on his master's lap, watching Dean watch him.

The shirtless man eyed Sam from head to toe, and gave an appreciative nod to Dean. Then he went back to work on the naked young man.

More people came in behind them. The bear spanked his boy nice and hard, until his ass was pink. The same pink as Sam's flushed cheeks.

"You like that, Sammy?" Dean whispered, coming up behind him and running his hands down Sam's chest. "Wish that was you?"

Sam shivered.

"Yeah, thought you'd like that. Want me to do that to you, baby boy?"

Sam made a strangled sound. They watched the young man writhe and squirm, taking each slap, not trying to get away, rubbing his cock against his master's leather-covered thigh.

"He's being a good boy. I wonder if you would be. Or if you'd fight against it." Dean's voice was soft and low, honey in Sam's ear. "Maybe I'd have to tie you down first."

Sam moaned. Dean chuckled in Sam's ear, pressed up against him so close Sam could tell exactly how much Dean was enjoying this.

They watched the boy drop to his knees and suck the larger man's cock. "Takes it like a champ, huh, Sam." Dean put his hand into the pocket of Sam's slacks, traced the side of his cock with his fingertips. Sam hissed. "But not as good as you." Fingers moving slowly, caressing the head of Sam's cock through the thin fabric of the pocket. "And that guy's cock isn't half as big as yours, or half as pretty."

Sam let his head fall back against Dean, not even watching the couple in front of them. Several people turned to watch them. Dean stroked his fingertips over Sam, his movements obvious now. The man in the leather pants nodded his appreciation, and signaled to his boy to straddle him, facing forward. He removed the plug the young man had been wearing, and grabbing his hips, pulled him down onto his cock.

The young man rode him shamelessly, facing the people in the room watching him, hard cock waggling as he pumped his hips. His master stroked him, praised him. "That's a good little slut, such a good fucktoy, there you go, yeah, fuck yourself harder, make my cock feel good, fuck, such a tight little cunt, gonna make you suck off anyone in here who wants it, yeah, you'd like that, you little whore, wouldn't you…" The young man fucked himself harder and told everyone how much he would love that, please, he wanted that so much. He was looking straight at Sam when he said it.

Dean shook his head no. "Mine," he declared, bringing his left hand across Sam's chest protectively. The young man looked sad for a moment, until his master said, "You want to come for the pretty boys? I bet they'd love to see you come all over yourself like a good little slut. Wouldn't you, boys?"

Sam and Dean nodded in unison. The older man gave a wolfish grin and wrapped his hand around his boy's cock. "Come on. Come for them. Put on a real good show." He jacked his cock hard and fast, as his boy wailed, fucking himself harder, spreading his thighs apart even more so Sam and Dean could see his master's thick cock spearing him, see his pretty pink rim stretched wide to take it all, eyes darting from Sam to Dean and back again.

Dean kissed the side of Sam's neck, bit down as the boy seized up, making a sharp series of cries, spurting all over his own chest and face, coming hard and wet and shameless. "I want to make you do that for me." Dean's voice was honey poured over gravel.

"Let me, Sammy. Let me show them all what a fucking treasure you are. Show them how lucky I am that you chose me." Dean's voice shook on the last word. "Show them all you're fucking mine."

Sam breathed heavily, looking around the room.

"All these people looking at you. Wanting you. And you're mine, Sam. Need to show them." His voice got rougher. "Need to show you." Dean spun Sam in his arms. "You in or you out, Sammy?"

Sam looked into Dean's eyes, seaglass-green and blazing with need for him, and whispered, "I'm in."

Dean's mouth twitched. He slowly unbuttoned Sam's shirt, revealing his white undershirt, and pulled the garment off, draping it over the arm of a nearby chair.

"Jesus fucking Christ," someone muttered. Dean ran his hands over Sam's well-muscled arms, making him shiver. He tugged Sam's undershirt off and dropped it onto the chair. Behind them, someone pulled the comforter off the bed and laid down a fresh one.

He moved Sam to the foot of the bed, kissed him like he was laying claim to him, then turned him to face the assembled guests. He stood behind him, caressing his chest with both hands. "You want anyone else to join in?" Dean's voice was quieter, just for Sam to hear.

Sam shook his head no.

"You sure?"

"'Course I'm sure."

"Good answer." Dean pinched Sam's nipples, hard enough to make him arch his back and gasp.

"Look but don't touch," he announced to the people watching them. "Got it?"

They nodded.

Dean moved Sam against the right post, raised his hands and had him grab hold. "Keep your hands there." Sam nodded, licking his lower lip.

Dean kissed and stroked and worshipped every inch of Sam's exposed skin, trailing his tongue lightly, taking each nipple into his mouth, teasing it and sucking it until Sam was white-knuckling the post, and those sounds began to emerge, those addictive moans and whimpers that Dean couldn't get enough of. Sam arched his back, writhing with pleasure under Dean's touch, but he did not let go of the post.

"You're being so good for me, Sammy."

Sam's pupils were blown wide, high from the sensory buzz he got when Dean touched him like that, soft and delicate, with his fingertips and the tip of his tongue. He moaned when Dean unbuckled his belt.

When he pulled his cock free, the gasps were audible. Dean laughed and threw them a self-satisfied glance, then stripped Sam completely naked. The smooth young man sank to a cross-legged position in front of them and put his head in his hands, rapt. Dean stroked his fingertips along the underside of Sam's cock, caressing him. Sam groaned, pushing his hips forward, chasing more sensation. But he did not let go of the post. His arm muscles stood out strong, his chest muscles popping. Just like Dean wanted.

Dean dropped to his knees before Sam. Green eyes upturned, he gazed into Sam's eyes. "Mine." He brought his mouth to Sam, took him all the way down in one agonizingly slow movement, eyes locked on him the whole time, until his lips were pressed against the base. He pulled back, mouth soft and wet, moving slowly, so slowly, dragging his tongue along the underside until Sam's eyes rolled back in his head. Slowly, he moved back until just the head was in his mouth. He swirled his tongue in a full circle over the head, and sank back down again.

Sam opened his eyes, watched Dean looking at him, his huge cock stretching his mouth wide open. Dean took him all the way down the base again, relaxing his throat to take Sam inside.

"No gag reflex. That's beautiful," someone whispered.

Dean worshipped Sam's cock, hands roaming over his bare thighs, his stomach. He pulled off just long enough to breathe, "Mine," and took his cock in his mouth again, and brought him to the edge, shaking and gleaming with sweat. Then he pulled his mouth off and squeezed the base of Sam's cock, preventing him from achieving release. "Not yet, baby boy."

Behind them, someone groaned.

Dean did it again, slowly bringing Sam to the edge of orgasm, and stopping just short, making Sam writhe and beg. "Soon, baby. Real soon." Dean stood up. "You can let go of the pole now." Sam dropped his hands, rolling his shoulders. Dean slowly removed his long-sleeved shirt. Sam leaned against the pole and watched him avidly. He tugged off his undershirt.

"Matching tattoos, oh my god, I'm gonna die…" a woman whispered.

As if by reflex, Dean reached out and put his hand on Sam's tattoo, and Sam reached out and did the same to Dean. Mirroring each other, they stood, eyes locked on each other, palms pressed over their tattoos. Over their hearts.

As one, they murmured, "Mine."

Dean gave a soft laugh. Then he stripped himself bare, not willing to make Sam do anything he wasn't willing to do himself. He crawled onto the bed and lay down on his back with his head at the foot. He reached out to Sam. "Come here." Sam blushed, knowing what Dean wanted, and knowing the angle everyone would have of Sam.

"I want them to see, Sammy. See everything they can't ever have. See how lucky I am."

Sam complied, and crawled over Dean, settling down, taking Dean's cock in his mouth greedily and sinking his cock into Dean's mouth. Dean spread Sam's thighs wider with a groan, spreading him open wide so everyone could see, see his gorgeous, heavy balls swinging as he pumped into Dean's mouth, see his perfect pink hole twitching in anticipation.

They stayed that way for a long time, trying to outdo each other for how deep they could go, how soft and wet they could make their mouths, how many sounds they could tug out of each other. Finally Dean pulled off, tugged Sam closer, and raised up his head so he could lick Sam's hole, swiping his tongue over it in soft, broad strokes, pulling him open with his thumbs and lapping at the silken pink flesh just inside, tasting him, claiming him, for all to see.

Sam whimpered at the feel of Dean's tongue on the most intimate part of him, strong back muscles, ass and thighs gleaming with sweat, sucking and licking Dean's cock so well that it took every ounce of control Dean had not to come down his throat chanting Sam's name. "Not yet. Not yet…" he begged.

Sam moved his mouth off, took Dean's balls into his mouth, sucking and pulling at them.

"Not helping," Dean gasped. Sam laughed, took Dean's legs, pushed them back so his hips moved up, and drove his mouth down on Dean's hole, devouring him. They licked and tongued and sucked at each other, crying out their pleasure, mouths sealed over their tight rims, softening and yielding to each other until they were moaning into each other's bodies, feeling the vibration inside them.

"Dean." Sam raised his head and pressed his cheek against Dean's inner thigh. "Gonna come…"

Dean made a mental note to make Sam come just from licking his ass. "Not yet, baby boy." Dean pulled away, gracefully settled Sam on his side and swung around to face him. He took Sam's face in his hands and kissed him, moaning into his mouth as Sam squirmed, so alive beneath his touch, wanting him so badly. "Jesus, Sam, I love you so much, so fucking much, I can't…"

"Dean." Sam's voice was soft, broken. "Fuck me. Please."

Dean looked around, trying to remember where his pants were, with the bottle of lube inside, and stopped with a laugh as he saw the array of pump bottles of lube on the table next to the bed. All kinds, textures, flavors and even colors. He squirted Gun Oil onto his fingers and inserted two of them, dripping wet, into Sam's ass. Sam gasped and drove himself down on Dean's hand.

"I'm so fucking lucky to have you." Dean fucked Sam's hole with his fingers for a few minutes until Sam was spreading his thighs wide open, begging Dean to fuck him. He applied another squirt of lube to his cock.

"You want me facing them? Like the other one did?"

Dean stroked Sam's cheek with his left hand. "No. I want to see your face."

Sam blinked back tears that welled, unexpectedly, in his eyes. He lay back on the bed, parallel to the headboard, and Dean lay over him.

"Only you, Sam. Just you." He pressed himself to Sam's entrance. Gently. Asking. And Sam softened, yielded, let him inside.

Dean sank all the way inside, and shuddered. "Fuck. Fuck…" He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling not to come. "Sorry, baby. Not gonna last long," he gasped.

"Shh. Just… let me feel you inside me." Sam held Dean still, hands pressed to his ass, breathing in and out slowly. The urgency of Dean's need to come eased. He looked into Sam's hazel eyes (sunflowers floating on a sun-gleaming lake) and breathed in unison with him, feeling the heat of Sam's body surrounding him, the snug grasp of his rim tight against the base of his cock. Taking the time to really feel what it was to be inside his Sam.

"God, Sam, you're so…" He kissed Sam's neck, his throat, his cheeks, his mouth. Stroked his hair with both hands. "So beautiful." His voice was choked. "How could you think I'd ever want anyone but you?"

Dean held onto Sam's shoulders, rotating his hips, adding in a little pull back and push forward, pressing his belly against Sam's cock. Sam cried out, arching his back. Dean rolled and rocked against Sam, with Sam, his thick cock sliding in and out, balls tapping gently against his ass as he drove home, fucking him so slow, making Sam shudder and whimper and whisper the only religious words he knew: Jesus and God and Dean.

"Dean. Please. I want to come for you."

And with that, Dean was done. Scorched, soaring, dissolved, shattered. He pulled back and drove into Sam harder, faster, flesh slapping against flesh. He pulled back, worked his right hand between them, still silicone-slick, and stroked Sam's cock just the way he liked it. "Yeah. Come for me. Show me you're mine." He fucked into Sam faster, working his cock, chanting. "Mine. Mine. Sam. Mine."

"Yours. Yours. Jesus Christ, Dean…" Sam gripped Dean's shoulders and erupted beneath him, head thrashing, hips rising up, body spasming, inner muscles pulling at Dean, pulling Dean's orgasm out of him as his own ripped through him, cords of his throat standing out, eyes squeezed shut, loud cries bursting from him, coming with such force that droplets of creamy white ejaculate soared over his head and spattered against the mahogany headboard.

Dean's orgasm rose from someplace deeper than usual, took longer to build because what was building was a fucking tsunami, a megaton blast, a Level 5 hurricane. He grabbed onto Sam for dear life and held on as it rocked him, shaking and twitching, his guttural cries rising as the pleasure crested until he was making high-pitched wails he didn't recognize as his own. "Oh my god," Sam whispered beneath him, as the orgasm kept going, and going, until Dean was crying, ready to beg the God of Orgasms to make it stop. Finally, it subsided, and Dean collapsed on top of Sam, unable to hold up his own weight.

Behind them, the crowd broke into applause.

Sam held Dean as long as he could, but when it got hard to breathe, he slipped free of Dean and rolled them both onto their sides. He stroked Sam's face with infinite tenderness, not even registering the presence of anyone else in the room, pressed his lips to Sam's throat and whispered, "I love you. I fucking love you. I only want you. Ever."

Sam basked in the wealth of affection, attention, of Dean's declaration, claiming him in front of everyone, being as public as he could be without getting them arrested. He whispered back, "I love you too. So much." His fingers ghosted over the curve of Dean's lower back. "I want to be inside you. While they watch."

Dean breathed in and out, suffused with such love for Sam he couldn't speak for a moment. "As soon as you can get it up, sweetheart."

A broad smile spread across Sam's face, popping his dimples and crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sam settled a pillow under their heads and tugged the end of the comforter over both of them, drawing Dean's head onto his chest. Dean closed his eyes and snuggled close, drifting immediately into a light sleep.

Slowly, the people in the room filtered out, and the last one to leave shut the door behind him, and flipped the Welcome sign over so it read Private.

THE END

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